Release and Redemption
by AJ Morrelli
Summary: An imprisoned Jowan receives a visit from a rather unexpected individual.


((Author Notes: First, disclaimer. I do not own Dragon Age or the characters therein, save Rohn's name and personality, and I'm doing this purely for the enjoyment of it. Secondly, this is another "side story" in Rohn's larger tale. I honestly cannot say what inspired me to write these two characters together but I hope it makes sense. Could potentially contain spoilers for the Redcliff portion of the game and I do switch around a conversation location, but I think it fits. Enjoy!))

* * *

Rohn leaned against the wall of the castle, gazing down into the courtyard from the corner of the raised walkway that served as a final defense before the main doors of the keep. Though some effort had been made to clear the area of the corpses, some remnants of their battle here still lingered. He saw none of it, though, his gaze as far off as his thoughts.

Connor had been saved, thanks to the mages of the Circle, and the second of his treaties had been fulfilled. Still, there was the task of attempting to cure Arl Eamon and that would take them to Denerim, right under the gaze of their foe.

If he hadn't already seen so much on this journey of theirs, he'd have thought this quest for the Ashes something fit for fools and madmen.

But, they weren't leaving for the city just yet. They'd need fresh supplies and it was too late in the day to set out already. Teagan had offered them a place to stay but Rohn didn't feel comfortable within the walls of the castle. He was much more at home under the open sky like this.

Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention to the stairs. Remaining still, he blended well enough into the shadows that whomever it was didn't notice he was there. He heard the soft tap of heels against stone and a patch of moonlight illuminated Morrigan's pale form as she crept between the castle and the door that lead down into the dungeon.

Frowning slightly, Rohn waited for her to enter the other half of the keep before he pushed away from his hiding place and followed on muffled steps.

* * *

"Who's there?" Jowan crept closer to the door, still wary, as the dungeons hadn't exactly been cleared out and there was no telling if anything yet lingered in the corridors. He was safe enough behind the bars of his cell, but that didn't mean he was impervious to all harm.

"'Tis only I."

The voice was only passing familiar and he tried to angle his body to see past the bars to the stairs. A few torches illuminated the hall and he caught sight of a woman approaching. Dark hair, a flash of bright eyes, and, ahem, yes, no need to let his gaze travel further down, even though the cut of her clothing seemed to encourage it.

Morrigan. The apostate that traveled with the Grey Warden. It must be nice to be afforded protection such as that.

"Was the ritual successful?"

Of all the things he could have asked her, that weighed heaviest on his mind. When the decision had been reached to try and seek aid from the Tower, he'd been grateful. Though he had offered up his blood magic to help Connor, it would have cost Isolde her life and despite his mixed feelings about the woman, he didn't want yet another death staining his hands.

"The boy lives."

The relief at those words staggered him. He found himself sagged to his knees, gripping the bars for support. "Thank the Maker."

Morrigan snorted. "Thank your fellow mages. 'Twas they who battled the demon, not your absent god."

He didn't want to argue the point with her. But mention of the Circle did bring his gaze back up. "Are the mages still here?"

"They've since departed. I'm told they have much to do back at that cage and this was merely repayment for some service the Warden rendered them."

"What? What happened at the Tower?"

"I know not. I remained here and my companions have yet to speak of it. Were I to hazard a guess from their haggard appearances, 'twas not something pleasant, likely."

The mage ran a hand through his hair. Before he'd left, there had been...whisperings. And then there was the matter of his agreement with Loghain. Had something happened, then? He wanted to think that the Teyrn had acted per their agreement and yet the sensible part of him began to chide, reminding him that he was nothing more than an expendable pawn in all of this.

"Why do you care?" Morrigan's voice brought him out of his reverie.

"What?" He picked his head up again.

"Why do you care what happens to that place?" He found it amusing that she refused to speak of it by name. "You sought to escape, did you not?"

"I still...I still had friends there. I may not have liked the place, but I didn't hate everything about it."

"I see."

The way she said it made him suddenly feel very foolish for having any sort of sentimentality to a place that was nothing more to him than a symbol of oppression. Still, he couldn't help but worry for those he'd known. Wynne. Amell. Surana. Irving. Even some of the templars. Well, if what the Bann had said was true, he'd be finding out what happened there soon enough. Likely as they brought him back to be made Tranquil.

"Has there been any change in the Arl's condition?" he asked quietly.

He heard movement, looking up in time to see her shaking her head, though she also replied with a quiet, "No." She didn't look very pleased at that fact.

"What's wrong?"

The question seemed to startle her. "What do you mean?"

"I mentioned the Arl and you frowned. There's been no change at all? Better or worse?"

"He remains the same. And now we set off on the morrow to chase the fabled ashes of a madwoman. The Warden seems to think that he can succeed where others cannot."

It was his turn to frown. "He succeeded in stopping Connor, didn't he?"

"Only because he took up the task of doing what that simpering woman could not bring herself to do."

"He's her son!"

"He was an abomination." Morrigan spoke it so matter-of-factly. Yes, it was true, but to some, becoming one didn't change the history of the other.

"Is there no one you would rather die for first than see hurt?"

"No."

Again, so matter-of-fact. He couldn't believe that. "What of the Warden? He protects you, does he not?"

"I don't need his protection."

"You're an apostate. If you weren't under his leadership, the Templars'd haul you away sooner than you could blink."

"They could try," she sniffed.

"I said that myself and they still caught me." The snort that she let out hinted that she obviously didn't think it was that impressive of a feat. "Why are you even here?"

"Pardon?"

"You obviously came down here for a purpose. Or did you simply seek to taunt me with the fact that you're on that side of the bars and I'm not?"

She'd been leaning against the wall opposite his cell. At that question, she uncrossed her arms and took a few steps closer to the door, crouching down so that the two of them were more at eye level. He caught sight of her eyes for the first time and had to hold in a gasp. They were golden in color, reminding him of a cat's or perhaps some exotic bird.

"I wished to see for myself what he saw in you," she replied quietly.

His brow furrowed, not quite expecting that sort of response. "He who? And what do you mean 'saw in me'?"

"The Warden," she replied. "Each time Teagan speaks of punishing you, he seeks mercy. 'Tis not something he does often, I think. I simply wished to see for myself if there was something beyond this," she gestured toward him, "or if he is just compelled to champion those who can obviously not protect themselves."

The question he was going to ask of the Warden died with her insult. It instead turned into a growl. "It would explain why he keeps your company, then."

He watched her eyes widen in surprise at that, heard the quick intake of breath. "I need _no one_ to protect me."

"You don't? I say again, were you not in his company, the Templar would find you and they would drag you to the Tower kicking and screaming regardless of how powerful you think you are. They have ways of stopping mages."

"So I have heard and yet, you don't see me quaking in fear of them. My mother has dealt with the Templar before and I know how to handle them."

"Do you? Have you ever stood up to one? Have you ever fought one?"

"When I was a child, my mother used to use me as bait for them." A wicked grin twisted at her lips. "A little girl to shriek and dart further and further into the woods, leading the fools to their doom."

No wonder she could say with certainty there was none she'd die for. If her own mother did such a thing to a child? He shook his head. "Your mother killed them, then. Have you ever tried?"

"I helped Fl-"

"Have _you_ ever tried to kill a Templar? By _yourself_?" he pressed.

She looked toward the floor. "I don't see why that matters."

"Because it's a lot different when they're not trying to kill _you._ You may have helped your mother, but that means they weren't concentrating on _you_. Try fighting them without your magic. See how far that gets you. And let me give you a hint: The view isn't that much different than what you're looking at right now."

He caught sight of the scowl on her face and watched her turn her attention down the hall, perhaps a small act of defiance to his last statement. Reaching a hand through the bars, he cupped her cheek and she let out an annoyed hiss as he forcibly turned her gaze to his.

_Fear_.

There was fear in her eyes. Fear that he might be right. Fear that there was that chance she wouldn't be strong enough. Fear that she needed to count on someone to keep her safe, that what she could do wasn't enough.

Fear that she'd end up right where he was.

His thumb lightly brushed at her cheek. "He won't let it happen," Jowan murmured softly.

"Wha-? Who?"

"The Warden. You may think he only protects those that can't help themselves, but I think he also watches out for the ones that would be the last to ask for help."

"You speak nonsense."

"I speak the truth. Or at least what you want to be the truth."

"How could you know what I want?"

"Because it's what we all want, Morrigan." He leaned closer, his hand drawing her to the bars as well. "Freedom."

Maker only knew what possessed him to kiss her. Maybe he was half-hoping she'd take offense and burn him to cinders on the spot. What he hadn't been expecting was for her to start kissing _back_.

Her slender hands easily fit through the bars, one sliding into his hair while the other clutched at the fabric of his robes. He could feel the metal of them pressing to his skin as the two of them sought to draw even closer to one another. It was a bitter reminder of just how different their situations were at the moment.

Breaking from the kiss, he drew back, a weak smile playing on his lips. "The desperations of a condemned man. It was kind of you to indulge them."

Seeing her face, he regretted his words, even if he thought them the truth. "Was that the only reason you sought to kiss me?" Her tone was soft and her gaze only flicked to him once.

"Were I free, I might not be so bold as to do the same, but that doesn't mean the desire isn't there."

She let out a soft laugh. "You find me desirable, do you?"

"What man wouldn't?" He arched a brow.

She smiled a little crookedly at that but said nothing more on the matter. He watched as she pushed herself to her feet, thinking that she meant to leave him at that, using the bars to pull himself up as well. The kiss had likely been too bold, even if she hadn't pulled away from it. A final, pleasant memory, at least, before he was condemned.

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't even seen her depart. Perhaps it was better. No sentiment to complicate things. Just something more for him to contemplate and one more thing to regret losing once the time came.

Something brushed against his leg and he started, nearly kicking out at whatever tickled him.

"Now where did you come from?"

He was staring down at a sleek little black cat, a purr rolling in the creature's throat as it twined between his legs and nuzzled at his shin. The creature let out a soft "Meow" as it glanced up at him and he had to look twice, even rubbing his eyes.

It's eyes were gold.

It didn't seem possible, but he swore the cat smiled, nuzzling him one final time before padding to the back of the cell. There was a glimmer, a pull of magic that he could feel taking shape, and the thing began to grow, body twisting as fur gave way to flesh, paws to hands, the tail disappearing. When the transformation was over, Morrigan stood inside the cell with him.

"Maker," he breathed out. "How-?"

"Your tower is not the only place one can learn magic." A smile played over her lips as she moved closer to him, actually backing him against the door of the cell. Her fingers snaked into his hair again and he felt himself pulled into a deepening kiss. Her other hand clutched at the bars behind him, almost as though she were using that to pull their bodies closer together. Bringing his hands up, he circled her waist, striving to help with the closeness she seemed to crave.

Even if this was an act of pity on her part-something he was not about to ask-he didn't care. Nothing mattered at the moment save the warmth of her pressed against him, the flick of her tongue against his own, the grip of her nails, her scent...

_Maker take me. Just like this. If this is the last thing I feel, I greet you a happy man._

His prayers, though, went unanswered and he sent another in gratitude for that. Past that, reason was starting to leave his mind, his thoughts steadily being replaced with his body's want for the woman in his arms. His hands traveled up her back, one pulling her a little closer, the other mirroring her hold on his hair.

Gasping, he pulled back from the kiss, his head banging lightly against the bars as he felt her hand rather boldly starting to rub between the two of them. He caught sight of the devilish smile on her lips. Letting his hand slide down from her hair, he brushed over her shoulder and began to return the favor, teasing in that he could very easily slip his fingers beneath her top but refrained from doing so. He was rewarded with seeing her bite at her lower lip and a squeeze of her own hand that had him groaning.

"Do you wish to play these games, then?" she purred, giving him another squeeze. "Or do you want to make the most of your time?"

If she was willing to forego any teasing or foreplay, he wasn't about to argue. His hands slid to her sides, pulling at the loose fabric that served as a shirt, and tugged it upward. True, it forced the two of them to part a little, but it both answered her question and had her halfway stripped.

She pressed against him once again, her lips distracting him briefly while he could feel her hands clutching at his robes, pulling those upward, bunching the fabric near his waist as he fumbled with working her pants down over her hips. They reached something of a compromise as he sank downward, allowing her to tug him out of the garment, his hands immediately returning to the task of helping her out of the rest of her own clothing. While she was still a bit off-balance, he stood up, spun her around and pressed her back against the door.

"Such interesting things one must learn in that tower of yours," she laughed softly, getting the idea already and hooking one of her legs around his thigh.

"Our time isn't always devoted to study." He urged her other leg upward as well, using his weight and the door to keep her up.

Her arms slid around his neck, one hand firmly gripping his shoulder, the other clutching at his hair. He drew back for a moment, catching the spark of excitement that flashed in those eyes of hers. Lifting her body and shifting his own, he was rewarded with a moan, watching her head tip back as he eased inside of her. The pinch of her nails bit into his shoulder and he would have hesitated but for the squeeze that he felt at his waist. Fully inside of her, he dragged his lips along her throat, covering her mouth with his, encouraged by the muffled whimpers that began as he started to move.

* * *

Rohn retreated back up the stairs the moment it became apparent that Morrigan and Jowan were done talking. Returning to his hiding place, he found a bit of solace in the cold stone that pressed against his skin. Outside of the obvious thoughts that had begun racing through his head, he forced his mind more to what they had been discussing before.

He wondered if Morrigan was right. If that's why he sought mercy for the blood mage. After everything he'd seen in the Tower, he should have been crying for his head.

But while Uldred had been using blood magic, he was also an abomination. Wynne had explained to him that any mage, regardless of the school they studied, ran that risk. It likely would have made little difference what magic he chose to use.

Jowan honestly seemed to want redemption. He felt guilt, not just for poisoning Arl Eamon but for being unable to help Connor. He had suffered at Isolde's order and yet seemed morose when she had offered herself as his sacrifice. A vengeful man would have seized the opportunity to punish his tormentor.

Teagan was not going to let him go. He might try and convince the Arl to be lenient, but if he truly wished to be merciful, he would have freed him by now. With Eamon still unaware, it would be easier to concoct a story to explain Jowan's absence. The Bann likely didn't want to think of the consequences that might occur if he loosed a known blood mage and so he was leaving it up to his brother.

A good amount of time passed before Morrigan emerged from the dungeon once again. She paused midway through the courtyard to adjust her shirt, her steps a little faltering as she crossed the cobbles. Though she glanced about, she still didn't see him before she slipped quietly back into the keep.

Dropping down from his perch, Rohn hugged the wall as he headed for the dungeon once more. There hadn't been any guards there before but he wanted to act quickly, just in case his absence or Morrigan's hadn't gone unnoticed.

Jowan, thankfully clothed again, was sitting on the floor of the cell, his back against the door. Rohn heard him sigh and watched his hand run several times through his hair. As the elf got closer, the mage started and spun around to his knees.

"W-Warden?"

Rohn crouched down before the door, examining the lock. It was a relatively simple device, now that he had time to study it. Reaching beneath his armor, he found the picks he kept tucked away there and drew them out.

"Might I ask just what it is you're doing?" Jowan remained on his knees, watching him work the wires in the lock.

He paused his work. "Giving you a chance at redemption."

"But the Bann-"

"Is going to put your life in the hands of the man you poisoned and in doing so, nearly killed his family and the people under his charge. I don't know this shem outside of what Alistair has told me of him, but I doubt that's going to put you in his favor, despite how fair-minded I've been told that he is." He gave the mage a crooked grin and returned to his lock picking.

"So you're letting me go?"

"I think you need to be given more of a chance than you'll have if you stay here." He finished with the lock and tucked his tools away. Rising to his feet, he pulled the door of the cell open and looked down at the kneeling man. "Prove me right. Do not make me have to hunt you down."

Jowan pushed himself to his feet, dusting off his knees. His gaze slowly crept upward, hesitant to meet the elf's, though when he did, he picked his head up, his expression set.

"I know you don't believe, but Maker bless you, Warden. I...promise I won't disappoint you."

As the mage hurried toward the doorway that would lead him to the escape tunnel and the cliffs beyond, Rohn's lips quirked in a small smile.

"Enjoy your freedom, Jowan."

The mage stopped and turned around, eyes wide, but the elf had already retreated up the stairs.


End file.
